


latency

by Dorminchu



Series: mourning period [4]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Canon May Joss This, Developing Relationship, Experimental Style, F/M, I want to get off Mr. Esmail's wild ride, Introspection, Minor Spoilers, Missing Scene, Not A Fix-It, POV Third Person, Season/Series 04, Sweet, Tags Contain Spoilers, Vignette, implicit sexual content, resolved emotional tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 10:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorminchu/pseuds/Dorminchu
Summary: “It's not love or anything, but I think I like you, too.”— Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club





	latency

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I certainly didn't ask for this feels trip, Sam! But hey, it's nice to see Elliot happy, even for a little while.
> 
> EDIT: Fixed a time-related error in the setting.

The tile is cold, even through clothes; he can sort of see his breath if he squints. The air is crisper. The sun's setting, shining through the half-frozen window pane and coloring the room vermillion.

It's a false sense of security. This unrelenting, crushing sense of emptiness overridden by the protective embrace of another. He’s already completed his objective, there’s no need to linger.

Something else compels him to stay on the bathroom floor next to Olivia Cortez, sharing warmth. Just for a few more seconds.

Sure enough Olivia extracts herself from under his arm and quietly mentions freshening up. It’s all the time he needs to return what’s borrowed—old guilt picks at him, but he reminds himself it's nothing personal—and Darlene’s probably wondering where the hell he is by now, because she can't be too pissed off if she's texting him back.

The Christmas tree is still on, and he can hear the shower running; allowing his physical presence to remain feels more intrusive than hacking her. Having gathered what little he took with him, he prepares himself mentally to leave, tries the door; it's locked. _Shit._ He isn't sure why he's so surprised. He'll just have to ask. He hears the bathroom door open and turns around.

"Elliot?" She's dressed, or at least decent. It's a little weird to think about a perfect stranger in such pedestrian terms, but not in a bad sense, easier to look at her than away. He swallows, says:

My sister just texted me. I’ve gotta go apologize to her.

"Oh." Her face turns pensive, then she says: "Yeah! Yeah, you should definitely, you know, talk while you have the chance." He doesn't elaborate, grateful for the silence as she approaches. Olivia's hand closes on his arm unexpectedly, freezes him in-place, but it's not entirely unpleasant. "Sorry, I mean… I didn't mean to keep you if you've got somewhere else to be. I just—wanted to say thank you."

It's all right, he says, and hesitates, thinking about the bottle of OxyContin and the razor; his bluff.

Olivia doesn't verbalize, opting to smile. A strange mixture of guilt and empathy washes over him and he attempts smiling back. It's nice to be appreciated. She's kind enough to unlock the door and he leaves, taking in cold air that goes down like pinpricks. It's going to be Christmas in a couple hours. He'd almost forgotten.

Mr. Robot's waiting round the corner, a phantom chaperone. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't seem too worried either. Outside, Elliot chooses to acknowledge him with a passing glance, and he cracks a smile, for a moment every bit the father he's lost, or perhaps it's only a reflection.


End file.
